Cat and Mouse
by Conveyus Prime
Summary: [BW] Just HOW did Rattrap know that the Tripredacus Agent Ravage had switched sides? Takes place during "The Agenda Part 2" of Beast Wars.


Rattrap should know better than to get his hopes up. Anytime a given situation starts looking up and you think there's a light at the end of the tunnel... it crashes hard with a speed-train heading right for you to finish the job. It has never failed, not once in his entire lifespan.

So here he is, feeling all good about himself and the impending end of the Beast Wars. Megatron is in Ravage's custody, the other Predacons are getting hunted down by Cheetor and Optimus Primal, and all is pretty much good in the world. Sure, Silverbolt is off chasing femme-Con tail and will get his as soon as he comes back, but he's really like a puppy - a stupid, honor-bound puppy with these wide 'what did I do' eyes every time someone gets mad at him.

In fact, he fully expects to hear Silverbolt's proper but sheepish tenor over his personal comm-link when it chirps at him. After the stunt he pulled, blowing a hole in the side of the Axalon and running off against orders, surely he wouldn't call on the general broadband. Rattrap reclines back in his seat at the communication station and lifts his wrist to his face. "Rattrap here."

**"We need to talk."** The Russian baritone was not what the rat was expecting, and he immediately snaps up out of his seat.

"I ain't got nuthin' t' say t' you," Rattrap snarls, red optics glancing around to ensure he was indeed alone. Rhinox, the only other Maximal still in the Axalon, was deep in the supply hold to take inventory. Since the plan was to hitch a ride with the Tripredacus Agent back to their own world and time, they'll have to take what little they can and destroy the rest. Avoid any time-altering, future-shifting sign that they'd even been here on Prehistoric Earth.

Ravage chuckles, the ominous sound making chills race up and down Rattrap's servo-strut.** "Now, now. There's no need to be like that, old comrade."**

Rattrap's optics narrow to slits as his voice drops to a hiss. As a consequence, his accent becomes even more pronounced. "Don't. Call. Me. That. That's ancient history an' youse know it. Dead, gone, an' buried. I've been workin' my aft off since th' Reformation, bein' th' good little Maximal an' keepin' th' Council off my back, an' even this lot think I'm one o' them."

**"I'm familiar with your... recent history."** The pause can't hide the disdain in the metallic panther's voice, a familiar sound to the rat. After all, Ravage was the only Cassetticon to choose a Predacon reformatting. **"It's orders from the past that led me to contact you now."**

The Maximal pauses, his brain processing that little nugget. "What th' frag are ya sayin'? I already figured youse th' only one leavin' this rock, bein' a Tripredacus Agent an' all." A chortle on the other side of the line confirms that assumption, and he retakes his seat. "But there's more?"

**"Indeed. Tell me, do you remember the humans' Voyager probes?"**

Rattrap raises an optic-ridge. Where was he going with this conversation? "Vaguely. I remember Megatron orderin' Shockwave t' monitor th' trajectory o' th' dinky li'l things while Cybertron moved through th' Sol system. Nev'a came up again, so's I figured nothin' happened wit' it." Ravage chortles again. "An' will ya quit doin' that?! It's creepy!"

**"Apologies, comrade."** Rattrap bites back a further retort, not that Ravage gives him a chance to voice it. **"They were tracked because of their golden records, the humans' primitive attempt to contact extraterrestrial life. Once they were close enough to avoid arousing suspicion, Megatron inscribed his own message within one of them detailing orders that would only go into effect upon his defeat."**

"Aaaand lemme guess. Purple-Face was able t' play back th' message, an' thus began his grand career as the wanna-be successor t' th' 'Con throne." Rattrap hooks his free arm over his face, shielding his optics. "So what're ya sayin'? Youse pinin' fer th' good ol' days, bein' Megatron's pet cat?"

**"How typically small-minded. No, I intend to follow those orders and kill Optimus Prime."**

It takes a moment for the words to register. "Wait." He sits up straight, staring down at his comm-link as if he could see Ravage's face. "Youse sayin' that's the endgame here? Kill th' Prime an' end th' Great War before th' reactivation?" Everything starts to make sense, a terrible piece to the puzzle that suddenly puts everything into focus. "What about 2005? If yer tellin' th' truth, then Lord Megatron made those orders before all that happened."

Ravage's tone turns dismissive. **"We were unprepared for Unicron, and this will change all of that. When we reawaken during the human era, we will have time to rebuild Cybertron and make our own stand against Unicron when it appears."**

Rattrap slaps his palm against his forehead. "You KNOW that won't work! Wake up an' smell th' Energon, kitty - you do this, you'll kill us all!"

There is a long pause over the line, then Ravage growls gravely, **"Better no Cybertron at all than to allow the Autobots their victory. Surely you cannot accept Soundwave falling so low just to ensure OUR amnesty, Rumble."**

"Yer kiddin' me." Rattrap's fuel runs cold all the same, and he can feel in the depths of his spark that the mech on the other end of the line is dead serious. "That was Boss' choice, an' we all made our choices from that. I can't just... UNDO all of it just because we lost th' Great War!"

**"I see. So you've become a Maximal after all, mind and spark."** Ravage takes a snarling, sneering tone that makes Rattrap's lip curl. **"Let's see if you and your Maximal FRIENDS can stop the inevitable, traitor."** The line goes dead.

Rattrap slumps back against his seat, a shaking hand covering his half-opened mouth. This is worse than anything he'd ever dealt with over his long life, and the repercussions... No, can't think on that now. Go back to old training, what is standard protocol with an impending vital mission... "SLAG!" He spins around in his chair as he launches to his feet. "RHINOX!"

"What?" The large-framed Maximal asks as he squeezes through the doors onto the command deck. He only has to take one look at Rattrap's face to tell that something has gone HORRIBLY wrong. "What happened, Rattrap?"

"No time t' explain!" He bolts over to one of the other consoles, typing furiously as status checks run on all defensive systems. "Help me get th' shields an' auto-turrets online - without 'em, we're all gonna die!" Usually the statement would have a response of optic-rolling, sighing, and an automatic reply of 'shut up Rattrap'. The fact that Rhinox only rumbles in concern as he takes command of the other console means that at least he's being taken seriously this time.

The Axalon's communication station crackles with static as a radio line opens. **"Optimus to Maximal base. What is your status? Report."**

Oh good, perfect timing. What's that about the speed-train?

Rattrap leans over the seat of the communication console and keys the microphone, a sickly smile splitting his face. "Well." He does his best to sound his usual self, but the stress bleeds through anyway. "I've got some good news... and some bad news, Fearless Leader."


End file.
